


a well of hope

by dollsome



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 13:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1649744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollsome/pseuds/dollsome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After parting with Leith, Greer finds comfort in Lord Castleroy's company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a well of hope

**Author's Note:**

> My heart has just been aching for Greer ever since I watched the finale, so naturally I had to write some fic in which she receives at least a bit of comfort! From Lord Castleroy, obviously, since he is Reign’s resident peppery feminist dreamboat, a man so great I am still pretty paranoid that he’s going to turn out to be a serial killer or something awful like that. But for now, I’m just going to believe he’s as wonderful as he appears to be.
> 
> Title from “Heart Made of Stone” by Matt Corby, a.k.a. the song that’s playing during Greer and Castleroy’s kiss in “Toy Soldiers.”

At the knock on her door, Greer takes a deep breath and wipes her tear-stained cheeks. Despite herself, she imagines Leith standing there—softer now, and maybe even contrite.  _I understand,_  she wishes he could say.  _I understand that there is more to life than happiness, and I am proud of you for being strong even when it breaks your heart._  
  
“Come in,” she calls.  
  
It isn’t Leith. It’s Lord Castleroy; he hovers in the doorway, respectful as always of her space. “Hello my dear. Yvette is downstairs. She’ll be thrilled to meet you at last. She’s very excited over a handsome new nobleman she’s just met, and I think that may be more your purview than mine.”  
  
“I’m not so certain about that,” Greer replies, putting on a smile. “You’re much more romantic than I am.”  
  
Her smile apparently doesn’t do the trick. “What’s the matter?”  
  
“Nothing. It’s been a long, strange day. That’s all.”  
  
“The king?”  
  
“Yes,” Greer says, grateful for the excuse. “My heart goes out to Mary, and to Francis.”  
  
“They will be fine rulers.”  
  
“But there’s a difference. Between knowing that you must do your duty and—and actually doing it, and knowing that for the rest of your life, this is what you are.”  
  
Lord Castleroy isn’t a fool—these days, Greer can hardly believe that she once thought otherwise—and he sees through her right away. “You’ve seen Leith again.”  
  
She feels a guilty, miserable lurch inside. “Yes. He’s alive. I—I had to know.”  
  
“Of course you did. All of those poor men. Thank God he was spared.”  
  
She nods, pressing her hand to her mouth. The tears nearly choke her, make her eyes sting, and suddenly she is crying openly. The desperate need for someone to talk to overwhelms her. With Kenna and Lola gone, and Mary so burdened, there’s been no one to listen.  
  
She thinks, only for a second, of what her father would say if he knew she was weeping—weeping about another man, no less—to her fiance. It sends a chill through her.  
  
Then she looks at Lord Castleroy, and his face is open and concerned, completely without cruelty.  
  
“Leith hates me,” she confesses. “He just won’t understand why I can’t be with him. To him, a modest fortune should be enough for me to throw away everything—my family’s prosperity, my sisters’ futures—” She takes a shallow breath and finishes, “You.”  
  
Lord Castleroy crosses the room, his concern for her trumping decorum, and sits down on the bed beside her.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she says, frustrated, her voice so stupidly thick with crying. “I’m sorry. I swear, I almost never cry, but these past few days have been so awful—”  
  
“You needn’t apologize.” He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a handkerchief, handing it to her.  
  
“Of course you have a handkerchief,” she says with a graceless, weepy laugh.  
  
“Is—is that unusual?”  
  
“No,” Greer says quickly, “I just mean—you always seem to do the right thing at the right time. You’re almost too good to be true.”  
  
He laughs slightly. “You’re the first person who’s ever thought that, I promise you.”  
  
“You’re too modest.”  
  
“I am, and always have been, an awkward and ridiculous man,” he says good-naturedly. “I’m well aware of that.”  
  
Greer dabs at her eyes with the handkerchief.  
  
Lord Castleroy continues, “Do you know what I admire most about you?”  
  
“It certainly isn’t my knowledge of pepper,” Greer jests, sniffling.  
  
“Yes, well. No one is perfect,” he teases, making her laugh a little through her tears. More solemnly, he says, “You’ve been asked to be very strong—impossibly strong—for all of your life. Now that I’ve made your father’s acquaintance, I know just what an agony it must have been, for a woman as bright and clever as you are to be treated like a little fool whose only worth is in her potential marriage. It would have turned many women hardhearted, or perhaps moved them to believe that they really were just a pretty thing to be sold. But not you. You’ve risen above it magnificently.” He pauses, looking uncertain for the first time. “And when the world gave you happiness, you still had the strength to make the selfless choice. You’re a remarkable person. And—and I’m sure Leith knows that, despite his anger.”  
  
“You’re kind.”  
  
“I’m honest,” he corrects, gently but firmly.  
  
Another wave of sadness overwhelms her. She wants so badly to believe those kind words. “I’m afraid I’ve wounded him forever. He was so happy at first, and then—no one has ever spoken to me with as much disappointment as he did. Not even my father.” Darkly, she mutters, “I didn’t think that was possible.”  
  
“I understand why he would lash out. It’s a terrible loss.”  
  
“But I was  _always_  clear with him,” Greer insists, feeling a flicker of anger beneath the hurt. “I always told him that it was impossible for us to be together, really be together. And yet when we last spoke, he made me feel like ... like such a coward, with such a cold heart.”  
  
Lord Castleroy touches her cheek, his eyes bright with affection. “No one could believe that of you.”  
  
She smiles, then moves to rest her head against his shoulder. “Thank you.”  
  
 “Always.” He kisses her head, and she smiles slightly. “If you like, I’ll tell Yvette that you aren’t feeling well. We can delay the meeting to another day.”  
  
“No. I’d like to meet her. I’m quite in the mood to get to know more about my new family. And I’m very good at talking about handsome suitors when I need to.”  
  
“I don’t doubt it,” he says, smiling at her.  
  
He arises, getting ready to depart, and on a whim, Greer reaches for his hand. He looks down at her.  
  
“I’m not only making the responsible decision, you know,” Greer says. He opens his mouth, as if he means to speak, but Greer cuts him off. “I mean, I am, it’s true. This is what’s best for my family. But—I’ve grown so fond of you. You’ve been the most wonderful surprise of my whole life.”  
  
He smiles, looking at her as if she’s given him the world. It’s such a relief to know she can make a man look that way—that she can bring joy, too. Not only suffering.  
  
“Likewise,” he says. Greer recognizes the word, an echo of her own reply when he proposed to her.  
  
Touched by his good memory, she stands and primly kisses him. It’s a very different thing from the heated, desperate kisses she shared with Leith earlier that day, and she’s glad of that. It’s easier to think of building a future on this kind of embrace. Still, as Lord Castleroy’s hands find the small of her back and pull her slightly closer, she feels a rush of interest. It certainly won’t be a chore to kiss him for the rest of her life, and she’s thankful for that.  
  
But as the kiss deepens, she thinks of Leith; he was standing in this very spot hours ago, so glad and sure at first, so quickly torn to bits by her, and here she is kissing the man she rejected him for. It feels so cruel and mocking.  _I will remember you as the woman who told me I wasn't enough._  
  
“I’m sorry,” Lord Castleroy murmurs as she breaks away from him.  
  
“Don’t be,” Greer says. “Just—give me a moment to freshen up. I’ll come find you.”  
  
He gives her another smile—he must know how much she needs them—and kisses her hand. “I look forward to it already,” he says, and departs.  
  
She goes to her mirror, sitting down before it and assessing her appearance. Her eyes are still red from crying, her hair all tangled, but she looks stronger now that the tears have passed. She doesn’t look miserable, or broken.  
  
It’s true, what she said to Lord Castleroy; she means never to lie to him if she can help it. Leith was a surprise of the most beautiful, terrible kind. It twisted her heart into knots, wanting him and loving him and always, always knowing that he carried a faith that she could never match.  
  
She begins to brush her hair slowly and carefully, Leith’s parting words in her head.  _When you’re all alone and miserable, remember this is the moment that you threw your happiness away._  
  
And perhaps the worst thing of all is that she hasn’t. Not entirely.  
  
Greer feels in a way that she’s known her husband all of her life: a shadowy but inevitable figure whose existence comforted and wearied her in equal measure. Her father had done his best to acquaint Greer with her husband long before she ever met him. ( _A husband has no interest in his wife’s opinions. A husband wants a pretty woman to bear his children and mind his orders. A husband will never want you unless you learn to keep your mouth shut. A husband will have more important things to worry about than your happiness._ ) Getting to know Lord Castleroy has been like coming out of night into morning.  
  
There is still hope for her, whether or not she deserves it.


End file.
